


Efflorescence

by macabremusic



Series: Efflorescence [1]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Fix-It, He gets resurrected don't worry, Hyacinthus deserves better, I have no idea how Sparta worked, I'm Sorry, I'm a sucker for happy endings, M/M, Retelling, Sad, he still dies but it's okay!, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:06:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 10,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28692936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabremusic/pseuds/macabremusic
Summary: Retelling of the myth of Hyacinthus/Huákinthos/Ὑάκινθοςthere are many different versions but I am using the one where he is the son of the muse Clio, and King Pierus of Magnesia.not historically accurate (at all, I have no idea how Sparta worked, and I modified some things to fit modern morals)excuse the occasional "Anais" I'm sure that is still there, I knew Hyacinthus had a sister but I only recently learned her name.(ps, It's Polyboea.)
Relationships: Apollo/Hyacinthus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Series: Efflorescence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103177
Comments: 11
Kudos: 28





	1. Meetings

Someone was wandering in the field where he stood, silent, trying to pay attention to his sister, who was playing with a ball, kicking it at the trees. Their father had sent them out for the day, insisting that he was busy with the counsel; but Hyacinthus knew better. He was the oldest, and Polyboea's birthday was approaching, so he would watch her while they prepared expensive food and wonderful gifts for the small girl. 

The wandering stranger, who appeared to be about his age, maybe a little older, turned and started walking towards him. As he did, Hyacinthus noticed a few things.

1, He was very clearly confident in himself. His posture, the way he was walking, everything about him screamed important.

2, He very obviously had a lot of money. Hyacinthus was royalty, he knew his stuff, and that toga definitely wasn’t second rate. 

And 3; He was the most attractive person Hyacinthus had ever seen.

The man had hair like silk, like light, that he obviously tried to tie back but only succeeded in it falling around his shoulders. Curly, but not like Hyacinthus’ which stuck out unless he braided it. He could just make out the color of his eyes, which shone blue- golden. Not a very usual thing you saw on the people were he was from, but Hyacinthus didn't care. _Pretty boy._ He thought. _Very pretty boy._

Hyacinthus was, to put it simply, smitten. And they hadn’t even spoken. Gods help him. 

He cleared his throat, and Hyacinthus snapped out of his trance with much embarrassment. “Do you know where I could find the marketplace?” He asked. “Uh…” 

Polyboea elbowed him. How had she gotten here? “Yes.. yes I do.” This was embarrassing, even for him. See, he had a history of crushes on a lot of guys he crossed paths with, but he had never reacted this way before. 

They headed out to the path, which was cobblestone and apparently interesting enough for Hyacinthus to permanently fix his eyes on, his face rather red. Polyboea, always the socially adept one, spoke up. 

“What’s your name?” 

The man stuttered for a moment, then spoke. “Phoebus” Polyboea snorted at this, which probably lessened Hyacinthus’ chance of getting with him. “Phoebus?” She asked, in an incredulous tone. “I’ve never heard of someone named Phoebus.” 

“Nevermind that,”- he said, regaining composure- “What’s your name then?” “Polyboea.” 

“And you?” He made a gesture towards Hyacinthus, who made a confused sound, as though he wasn’t aware he could be part of the conversation. “Oh! I’m...I’m Hyacinthus.” 

“Hyacinthus?” He smiled at him brightly, which really did help the rapidly spreading blush across Hyacinthus’ face; “Nice to meet you, Hyacinthus.” 


	2. Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to the market. 
> 
> (BTW, Phoebus is Apollo. It's an alias but he will reveal himself eventually)

Staring down at the ground while walking through rough terrain nearly made Hyacinthus trip over his toga, which he would later blame Polyboea's annoying skipping on. “Yes. Nice to meet you too.” 

They continued walking in silence until they reached the marketplace. It was decently sized, with enough stalls that it became the primary source of materials, clothing, and income for most of the people in this village. Hyacinthus had been here many times with his father. It was close enough to the palace that he was able to escape here. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Hyacinthus noticed a family friend, with their husband, and told Polyboea to go with them. Better to have her make trouble then bother him, right? Right. 

The stranger, Phoebus, was staring at him, an expectant expression across his face. It took about 6 seconds for it to click in his mind as to why. 

“Right.” He said. “Follow me.”

They walked around, Hyacinthus giving a tour of the place. Many years of stifling authority and war planning had led to him going out whenever he could. The forest and the village were an escape. He delighted in coming here, as he knew the people, and the people knew him. 

Phoebus was looking around, occasionally stopping to ask questions. Hyacinthus watched him with curiosity. He wondered if this stranger was aware of who he was. Not that he was one of those pompous people always on their high horse, but he had never heard of a Phoebus. Not royalty then. Well, either this man was oblivious, or he was lying. Hyacinthus wasn’t sure which one he feared most. He had been told to be wary of strangers, travelers, especially men. They all came to steal the throne, that’s what his father told him. A paranoid man, he was. 

He noticed the stranger quietly humming, a tune which he recognized to be from the hymns that the devoted followers of… Apollo (? They didn’t worship him as much there. I mean, they did, but mainly for violent things, such as flaying people alive, plagues, and archery) sang. The council had visited Athens earlier that year, in an attempt to make peace and get over their differences. He had begged his father to let him explore the city, (quite literally begged, Pierus was also overprotective,) and along the way ran into the god’s followers. 

He wondered how Phoebus knew the tune. Maybe he was thinking too much of it. Maybe he was from Athens. 

“Hey…. Hyacinth right?” He asked. “Close enough.” Hyacinthus replied. 

“What do you do around here? I’m new in town; just checking out the place.” “Well, there’s….. there’s discus.., quiots..?” 

“Oh, not that. I mean, are there any agoras? Maybe some temples? Seems pretty war-like to me.” 

“I.. I suppose so. I don't think people are all that big on that kind of stuff here.” 

“What about you? What D'you do all day?” “I.. I help my father… I go to counsel meetings…” 

“You don't have any hobbies? Like.. I dunno.. archery? Maybe some poetry?”   
“We have archery here. I’m not so sure about the other things though.” 

“I mean, I could show you that sort of thing, if you’d like.” 

Hyacinthus hesitated. This could be his chance; but he had also just met this person. 

“I’m not sure if I should.” He said at last. 

“Oh, lighten up a little bit. Come on, I’ll show you what I was doing.” 

“I have to be back home for din-” 

Phoebus grabbed his arm, dragging him along the same pathway they had taken on the way to the marketplace. 


	3. Have Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything moves a little fast in this one, but life is short. (Especially in the case of Hyacinthus.)

Hyacinthus could feel his face heating as he noticed the people glancing at them, some for longer than others. May the gods have mercy on him and his easily flustered nature. 

It was only when they had left the market far behind that Phoebus let go. Hyacinthus missed the feeling. 

They arrived in the field. The sun hung low in the sky, nearly disappearing behind cold, unfeeling mountains and unkind trees. It barely felt scary though, because he could focus on Phoebus’ hair shimmering in the slowly fading sunlight. The man looked rather in his element. 

And he was humming again, nearly singing, a different song from earlier, but a hymn nonetheless. Hyacinthus wasn’t sure if he was even aware of what he was doing. It looked like a subconscious thing, soft and so, so beautiful. 

Phoebus guided him to a little alcove in the forest, although Hyacinthus was sure he could hear him mutter something about the dryads hating him under his breath. In the patch, there was a bag, several scrolls tied with golden ribbon, and a large quiver with an expensive bow and better arrows than Hyacinthus had ever seen.

Phoebus grabbed the weapon, and turned towards him, eyes shining. “Alright. Archery sound good?” He asked. 

“Sure.” “Good.” Phoebus turned to the trees on the opposite of them, across the field. He drew an arrow out of the quiver, and shot. 

The arrow whizzed through the air, just barely missing Hyacinthus’ face, (he ducked) and landed precisely in the middle of an old oak tree. Hyacinthus slowly got up once he realized that Phoebus was staring at him, a concerned look on his face. 

“I’m alright, I’m alright” he said, dusting himself off. Phoebus’ face went back to its normal, grinning position. He looked excited. 

Frankly, Hyacinthus was extremely impressed. He had been surrounded by people who focused so intently on sport from birth, yet this foreigner was significantly better than any of them. I mean, he **had** never seen someone do that before. It was almost too perfect. 

They continued on, time passing far too fast for either’s liking, until both were out of breath and tired enough to collapse. Phoebus laid in the grass, staring up at the dark sky. Wait. Dark sky? 

It all came back to him. The palace. Dinner. He was late for everything. No no no no no no no.

“I have to go.” He said. Phoebus looked at him funny, realizing that Hyacinthus was on the verge of panicking. 

“At least let me walk you home?” He offered, looking disappointed. Hyacinthus half-considered his offer. “Uh… no! I really need to leave. My father’s waiting, Polyboea must be worried… you understand.” 

“Oh… of course. Tomorrow then? At the marketplace, after lunch?” 

“Yes. Tomorrow. Lunch. Right. Sorry. Gotta go.” 

He took off sprinting towards the soft lights of the village square, leaving a very confused, amused, and rather enamored man behind. 


	4. In over my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger at the end (but that's alright)

The next day, after wholeheartedly promising never to do such a thing again, a visit from his mother, and many chores, (plus history work,) Hyacinthus headed once again to the marketplace. He was excited to see Phoebus again, so much so that he nearly knocked a poor old lady over, who cursed at him as he gushed apologetically. A few feet away, he could hear someone laughing.

It was him. Curse that man, he was laughing like he had just been told the funniest joke there was. He was sitting on the edge of a public fountain, shaking with laughter. 

Eventually he gathered himself, taking deep breaths and attempting to look proper. Then he looked at Hyacinthus’ face, intently staring at some flaw or another. He, of course, noticed, his face gaining a pink tint; 

And walked over, and sat down, covering his face with his hands. 

Eventually, the scenario became more awkward than funny, and they turned towards one another. 

“So….”- Phoebus started- “Where to, princey?” 

“I- how did you know?” “You think I don't… I dunno… research a kingdom’s royalty before traveling?” 

“I didn’t think of that.” He admitted, which made Phoebus chuckle. 

“Well…. Does this place have an amphitheater?” He asked. “What’s that?” Hyacinthus asked, confused.

Phoebus mockingly gasped. “You don't have an amphitheater?” Hyacinthus tensed. 

“I guess not.” He responded, taking a defensive tone. 

Of course, Phoebus noticed. “Oh, relax. I’m just teasing.” 

“Oh. Well, what’s an amphitheater for?” 

“Oh I’ll show you… Come on!” 

This time, he grabbed Hyacinthus’ hand, once again dragging him through the square, and once again Hyacinthus’ face heated. 

They took a different path that day, running through grass and hills instead of stone. They let go, breathless after running so far. Hyacinthus looked around wildly, his hair frizzy and wild in front of his face, dark curls matted against the nape of his neck. They were near a river, which had a small, mossy island of sorts in the middle of it. 

“Here it is.” Phoebus said, clearly out of breath.

“Wow.” Hyacinthus replied. Real articulate of him, that. 

“Well”- he said, sitting on a piece of driftwood, smoothing out his toga- “Here’s where I do it.”

“Do what exactly?” Asked Hyacinthus, taking a seat next to him. 

“You know… sing and write and stuff.” Phoebus looked embarrassed. “Though I do have to admit something to you.” 


	5. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reeeeeeeaaaaaaallllly short chapter- 
> 
> Apollo reveals his identity (slow down man)

“What is it?” 

“I haven’t exactly been honest with you.”

“How so?” Hyacinthus asked, heart dropping, but still urging him on.

“.....This is stupid.. Nevermind.” 

“No, no. Tell me.” 

“I’m not exactly… human.”

“I know.” Hyacinthus said, with a sigh of relief.

Phoebus looked taken aback. He stuttered. “How?”

“You made 57 bullseyes in a row last night, and you have golden eyes. I put two and two together.” 

‘Phoebus’ stared at him incredulously, and a slow, fascinated grin started to spread across his face. 

“Then I suppose you know my real identity?” He asked. 

“Actually, no. I figured you were like me.” 

“What?”

“A demigod.”

He threw his head back as he laughed. “Not quite.”

“What **are** you then? If not one of us.” 

“Apollo. Uh.. Apollon. Phoebus Apollon, get it?" He chuckled nervously. 

"Oh." 


	6. Confessions Pt 1.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the confessions last chapter

The day passed quickly after that, Hyacinthus asking him several questions including. “Are you serious?”

“What exactly does that mean?” “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you’re here?” 

Most of them had a definite “yes” for an answer, but the latter he responded to with: “No, of course not.” 

That calmed Hyacinthus down a bit, who then turned towards him. 

“Why are you telling me this? I’ve known you for about two days.” 

“What??? A guy can’t tell another guy that he’s actually a god in disguise without being interrogated???” 

“Well it's not like you really know me! What if I… told someone or something???”

“I’d have to kill you.” Apollo answered, a deadpan look on his face.

Hyacinthus’ usually dark complexion paled.

“Nah; I’m just messing with you. I wouldn't do anything. Probably just leave, if I’m being honest.”

Now his face became significantly more red, which Apollo noticed with silent joy. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, leaning towards him, which ultimately made it worse. 

“I… nothing.” 

“Oh. Alright then. I do have to ask though.”

“Anything.”

“Are you still up for learning how to play the lyre?” 

Hyacinthus groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Fine.”


	7. Slow the fuck down Apollo geez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title says it all 
> 
> (Confessions Pt 2)

The week afterwards was pure bliss, the two becoming closer to best friends (lmao not for long) than strangers. 

Apollo had agreed to teach him a bit more about archery and the arts, so long as Hyacinthus put up with his very detailed explanations of the things that interested him. 

Now, he was going on a rant about the mistranslations in a hymn dedicated to him. Apparently, they had called him the god of hunting, a sport reserved for his sister, who was now furious with him. Not that Hyacinthus was paying attention, no. He barely heard what Apollo was saying, as he had spaced out staring at the way he formed the words, and the upwards curve of his mouth. He half heard Apollo ask him a question, to which he responded to with: 

“Oh yeah… totally….” 

Apollo looked at him as if he were an idiot (which wasn’t untrue.) “You’re not even listening to me!” 

He was startled out of his daydream. “Yes I am!” He insisted, which really was a stupid idea.

“I  **asked** if Artemis was right in being mad at me.” 

“Oh.” Was all he could muster. “No then, I guess.” 

They went back to lying in the grass.

Eventually, Apollo propped himself up by his elbows, kicking his feet in the air, rather like a small child would. “Whatcha thinkin about?” He asked. 

“Nothing…” 

“C’mon.. You can tell me.” He insisted.

“Nothing I said!” He turned away, looking instead towards the mountains and blue skies. 

Apollo looked hurt. 

“We can go back if you’d like.” He said softly. 

“No, no, it's alright. I was just.. Lost in thought I guess.”

“Well, what’s on your mind? Are you bored yet?” 

“No, and just.. Life I think. I’ve been pretty stressed lately.” 

“Anything I can help with?” Apollo asked. 

“I don't think so. Just the uh.. General stress of life.”

“Ah, yes. The stress of life.”

It was Hyacinthus’ turn to look incredulous. “What would you know about stress? You’re a god.”

“You do realize that I have responsibilities, right? Life as an immortal isn’t all fine and dandy.” He picked at the grass, looking bored. 

“I bet. Why don't we focus on something else then.” He suggested. 

“Like what?” 

“I dunno. Get to know each other?”

And here, dear readers, is the first ever game of 20 questions. In 1988, about 1.7000 years from this scene, Apollo would try to patent the game, and would fail, to a man named Robin Burgener. Don't believe me? Look it up. 

Of course, he only failed because every time he tried to mention the game, he nearly broke down into tears. 

“I have an idea. I ask a question, and you answer, then you ask me, and we continue like that.” Apollo said.

“For how long?” Hyacinthus asked. 

“I dunno… 20?” “Sounds good to me.” 

“Alright. Favorite color?”

“Purple. What’s yours?” 

“Gold. Any siblings.. I mean other than your… adorable little sister?” 

“Yeah, I have twin brothers, but they’re young. How many places have you traveled?” 

“I’ve been here since the beginning of time, so I’m gonna have to say… all of them. Where’ve  **you** been?”

“Really just Athens… I went to Thebes once when I was small, but I don't remember much about it… What’re the gods like?” 

“Oh, horrible. Everyone except maybe Hermes and my sister. Ever been in a relationship before?”

Hyacinthus blanked. “What?”

“I said, ever been in a relationship before. Like, are you engaged or single or…” 

“Oh. Well I'm technically engaged to this girl from Corinth, her name is Eloise, we were best friends for a long time but we aren't anymore, I'll tell you more later. She's great, really,  but I don't exactly… want to.” 

“You don't wanna get married?” 

“I mean, I do someday, but I’m not all that interested in girls, you know?” 

“How about guys? I mean, there’s always me…” he trailed off, seemingly unaware that he said the latter out loud. 

The earth seemed to stop spinning. Everything, even Hyacinthus’ heart, was at a standstill.

“You… you like me? Like that?” 

Apollo choked on his words, waving his hands around inarticulately. “I mean.. yeah?.” 

“Are you serious? Because if you’re teasing me again…” 

“No. I’m serious. I Promise.”

“I.. I like you too?” He answered hesitantly, trying his absolute best to appear nonchalant. Inside, he was panicking. 

“Good. Wanna keep going?” 

“That sounds nice.” 


	8. Passage of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a mini chapter that describes time passing so I look like a good writer

The afternoon passed far too quickly. I mean, Hyacinthus was in a daze the whole time, barely paying attention to what he answered. When he got home, he immediately collapsed on his bed, exhausted. 

He woke up earlier than usual, the events of yesterday rushing back at him, so overwhelming he had to take a few steps backwards to collect himself.  _ Can’t go around all day looking like a mess  _ he thought, and got dressed. 

The toga he threw on was getting a bit too small for him, only reaching his mid calf and becoming less flowy and more form fitting, so he wandered around the room in search of a more fitting pair. The only ones he could find were a bit too big, so he had to make a choice.  _ Too big or too small?  _ He asked himself. 

Ultimately he decided on the bigger one, which he could probably pull off much more easily (plus it would be more comfortable, no doubt.) 

He walked out of the room, in a daze almost, still re-living the encounter he had the day before. One thing was definite. He was going to see him today. Now. Now is good.

He was, to say the very least, excited. He barely ate breakfast, rushing through the morning before going straight to the marketplace where they always met. 

There was one thing he hadn’t considered though. Apollo was not there. In fact, he was nowhere to be found. 

It put quite a bit of a damper on Hyacinthus’ cheerful mood. He wandered around miserable, hardly paying attention to where he was going. He eventually wandered to the field where they had first met. 


	9. Odd Sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyacinthus feels down for no reason (I feel you man, I get those sudden sad attacks too)

It was light and foggy, mist and dewdrops hanging delicately on the morning grass. Hyacinthus found Anais’ ball lying there motionless in the mud, and he felt.. So. Much. Worse. 

He had no genuine reason to be upset at this, it was just the ever-growing feeling of dread at the possibility of Apollo playing a practical joke on his emotions and abandoning him. He could imagine him now, sitting on a golden throne upon Mt. Olympus, laughing with adoring fans as he told the story of how he ditched some pathetic mortal who had the audacity to consider himself worthy of his love. 

_ Yeah, that’s it. - _ He mused-  _ They’re probably making a laughingstock out of me.  _ Needless to say, the thought did not help. He leaned and slumped against a tree, placing his head in his hands and looking miserable. 

After about a minute of this, he could hear a rustling sound coming from the taller grass, probably a small animal, or someone walking. Someone walking? He looked up abruptly, blowing curls out of his face in a hurry to identify the noise. 

Oh. It  **was** someone walking. Well, not just someone, Apollo. He appeared to be looking around for something. He stopped at Hyacinthus’ feet, and stared for a few seconds, until he looked up. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, crouching down to be at Hyacinthus’ eye level. “Nothing.” He replied quickly, suddenly ashamed of himself for thinking that negatively about him. He  **was** still a god, one who could make or break his entire life. 

“Oh?” He asked, apparently not satisfied with this answer. He sat down- “Really- what is it? Somebody bother you? Because I can take care of that.” Frankly, Hyacinthus was a bit scared at his tone. He sounded serious, as if he really would ‘take care of it.’ 

“No, nothing like that. I.. I couldn’t find you, and I thought that.. Well maybe you left.” 

“Now why would I do that?” “Because.. I don't know.” He sighed. “It was stupid.” Apollo chuckled. “It was, wasn’t it.” 


	10. SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK (and I can barely stand)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sleepy times which is probably ooc but see if I care

They sat in silence for what felt like eternity. Hyacinthus looking up at the morning sky, foggy and palid, fifty different shades of blue –cobalt and cerulean and sapphire fading to pale, almost gray, right before the horizon line. 

The sun peeked over the mountains like an egg yolk. 

He was so wrapped up in this sight seeing that he barely noticed Apollo slump over onto his shoulder. It was only when he murmured something that Hyacinthus realized he was sleeping on him.

Not that he minded. I mean, his face went red and he stared determinedly off to the side, trying to control his gaze, but he didn’t really mind. 

He could sympathize with Apollo of course. 

Being one of the olympians must be exhausting, mentally and physically. 

When he moved a little and Apollo did not stir, he absent mindedly rubbed his back, like how he had done to Anais and the twins when they were babies. 

Minutes passed. He waited for some kind of movement from Apollo, so he could have an excuse to stretch, but nothing happened. 

He tried passing the time, picking at the low hanging branches and the grass until he fell asleep as well, laying his own head on Apollo’s. 


	11. Lovesick (plus he probably has some ancient illness)

Mid afternoon, both men woke slowly, hair matted to their foreheads, eyes puffy, embarrassed about the situation at hand. 

They got up (with difficulty).

Apollo seemed much more energetic, rolling on the balls of his feet, stretching as though he were preparing for intense physical activity, while Hyacinthus staggered clumsily and leaned on the tree for support. His mind felt foggy, as though this was all a fever dream. Maybe he was sick? That seemed to be the consensus, as Apollo looked at him concerned. 

“Are you all right?” He asked. Hyacinthus took a moment to consider his answer. Was he alright? 

He settled for a short “I’m fine”, and turned away.

Apollo wasn’t very good at comforting people. Usually, he was the one being comforted. He did, however, know when someone he cared about was blatantly lying to him. (It comes with being the god of truth.) 

He stepped in front of Hyacinthus. “I’m serious. You look feverish.” Hyacinthus looked defensive. “I told you, I’m completely fine.”

“You’re lying.” He insisted. “Oh, why don't you just leave already!” He snapped. 

Apollo was taken aback. This was unusual only because Apollo was a god. He did not become ‘taken aback’. If he did, it was only for a moment. 

This time, he took a few physical steps back, throwing his hands up in an attempt to show surrender. Defeat? 

He did not want to hurt the man in front of him. In fact, he’d prefer to do the opposite. “Why... why would I leave?” He asked, curious to find what Hyacinthus thought of him. He was certain he’d been friendly! More than friendly!

“It’s just.. When are you going to get bored of me? Why are you putting up with this?” He gestured to himself. 

Once again, his only thoughts were:  _ Why did he put up with him? Was this guy crazy?  _

The initial shock faded of course, and he stood, silent. He decided to think about Hyacinthus’ question. When was he going to get bored? 

Never, he supposed. Never. He’d genuinely enjoyed the time he was spending with him. 

He was happy. 

Being an olympian was exhausting. 

His family was exhausting. 

His responsibilities were exhausting. 

He was so tired. 

This man.. he gave him energy, made it a little easier.

“I don't think I’ll ever be tired of you. I like you. I like this. If you want to.. If you want to stop this, it's fine, but I don't. Really I don't.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

“Oh. No, no I don't. I thought.. Thought I was just an experiment to you.” 

“Of course not. I don't do ‘experiments’. Not my thing.” 

“I love you.” Hyacinthus blurted out. Yeah. Real stupid of him, that. Why, why, why did he just do that? He was so stupid! So utterly stupid! 

He smacked his forehead. “I mean.. I..no?” 

He was laughing. Gods on earth, (haha) Apollo was laughing at him. Oh no. It was true then. It really was just a test. He might as well apologize.

“I’m sorry.” Tears were beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. 

Apollo stopped laughing. “What for? I love you too.” 

“Then why did you just let me panic for a whole minute???” 

“I uhh.. I kinda thought you knew. I don't exactly confess everything about myself to someone I’m just casual friends with.”

“Oh.” (Someone help him, he really  **was** stupid.) 


	12. Introduction to his demise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, introduction to Zephyr.

“Do you.. Do you want to go for a walk?” -Apollo asked- “We can talk more about this.” 

“That would be nice.”

They walked, and they talked, and they laughed about what had happened moments prior. Up above, invisible and unbeknownst to them, a certain someone was also becoming quite taken with the prince. 

Zephyr, Zephyros, god of the winds and storm and everything that was destructive, had spent a lot of time watching Hyacinthus. 

As far as he knew, the man wasn’t even conscious that he existed. 

He had tried to introduce himself one time, which only resulted in a “Sorry, I’m busy, and you’re probably looking for my father anyway. Down the hall, take a left, the room with red tapestry, you can’t miss it. And tell him that his daughter is with friends.” 

So, that was something. But he refused to give up. He was infatuated. The man fascinated him. He was so.. Perfect. Never had this god become so obsessed with something so beneath him. Much less a  **man.**

He had never had children, despite pressure from his family, if you could call them that. He didn’t care for people. Much less humans. Much less male humans. 

Hyacinthus pushed his hair back as the wind picked up. The taller grass rustled as they wandered deeper into the woods, and Apollo’s hair was disheveled, sticking up in the back and poofy in the front. It, rather strangely, suited him.  _ How does he manage to make tangled hair attractive?  _ Hyacinthus wondered; usually when the weather was wild and stormy, he put his hair in braids, but today he decided to go unprepared.

The sky grew darker, and the trees seemed to loom down at them. 

Dread started to creep up on Hyacinthus, who looked towards Apollo for support. 

Something told him that if anything terrible happened, he could still find comfort in the fact that he was traveling with a healing god. 

Apollo, however, flinched terribly at the lightning scattering across the sky, which only caused more dread and a strong need to get out of there as soon as possible to rise to the surface.

They decided to forge on, but the weather did not let up. The sky only grew darker, and they only grew more and more afraid of the strangely changing atmosphere. Somewhere, deep down, Hyacinthus knew he needed to keep it together, for his sake and for his companion’s. At least until they found shelter of some sort. 

Just as he was about to strongly suggest they go back, Apollo whipped around to face him. His eyes were wild in a sort of fiendish delight you would normally expect to see on the face of someone who just came up with the cure for cancer, or Hermes on a saturday. 

“You trust me?” He yelled.

“Now why would I do that?” 

“Because I have a plan… just hold on!” Hyacinthus opened his mouth as if to ask just what exactly he could do to get them out of this, when Apollo grabbed his arm, and they disappeared. 


	13. Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another mini travel chapter (thank you, the people who viewed this so far!)

The nothingness that he experienced was somehow the heaviest feeling he ever felt. 

The air, if you could call if that, was so thick it could have been swallowed. 

His lungs attempted to expand and failed miserably, making human urgency and panic fill the craters instead. 

This sensation seemed to last forever, but in reality it must have been only a few seconds before light so bright it nearly burned his corneas drew nearer. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped for the best, which included being alive. 

Then, the heat and pain faded, the air returned, and he could feel a warm breeze washing over him. 


	14. Delos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most likely non canon because I forgot what Delos is described to look like but whatever.

His eyes slowly opened, almost automatically, eager to survey whatever place he had been delivered to. He was not disappointed; the scene was beautiful. It looked so entirely different than all he had ever known, he felt as though he was in a dream, a paradise. 

“Where are we?” He asked, wondrously. 

“Home.” Was the reply, coming from the man who stretched and cracked his knuckles, sighing as though a great weight had been lifted off him. 

He supposed this was his home. And it was a great one. 

They appeared to be near an ocean, as Hyacinthus could taste the stinging air, and almost see the shoreline. He looked towards Apollo; the whole island seemed to welcome him, golden flowers blooming at his feet, suddenly braided into his now neat hair, the grass growing greener, the sun shining just a bit brighter than before. He inhaled deeply, and Hyacinthus could tell he was far more relaxed here than in Sparta; no matter how much he loved his home, he knew it’s presence could be draining. 

He no longer had that look of pure fear, anxiety and recklessness. Instead, he rolled back and forth on his heels, bursting with energy and light. Speaking of light, Hyacinthus was surprised at just how bright and vibrant this place was. Delos. The sacred island and birthplace of the archer twins, Apollo and Artemis. 

Apollo broke the silence. “Now, normally I do not bring mortals here, but I think I’ll make an exception, just for you.” He winked, and started walking down a stone hemmed path, looking back at Hyacinthus as if to say ‘are you coming?’ 

They walked in silence. Hyacinthus was still looking around awestruck. Everything seemed so perfect. It  **was** perfect. And Apollo was smiling. He noticed something in the distance, and took Hyacinthus’ hand, whispering in his ear, “My mother isn’t in attendance currently, and I’d prefer it if none of our guests knew I was here either.” 

Hyacinthus did not question this decision, and simply followed him in sneaking across the back of the grandly decorated marble temple, which is where he assumed they slept when staying over. He must have been right, because Apollo led him into a room, in which he turned around, muttered something, and a protective seal of some sort surrounded them. 

Hyacinthus did some more gawking at the lavish room before him, which must have been Apollo’s own. The walls were covered in paintings and writing that was not legible to him, but must have made perfect sense to someone greater. A huge bed, hidden by sheer curtains, lay up against the wall, in the center of the room. Apollo sat on it, and patted the space next to him as an invitation. Hyacinthus took a seat. 


	15. Heat Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (yes, I have read the Dream fic. No, that's not where the name is from. stan Glass Animals. 
> 
> -VERY EXPLICIT  
> -Also I already posted this to my other fic, "The Art of Coming Undone at the Seams" so sorry if you've already read that...

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now…” Apollo started. “And what is it exactly that you’ve been thinking?” “How much I want to kiss you.”

That startled him. He hadn’t really expected things to get physical, (he didn't believe he had a chance in the first place) but boy did he want them to. Holy motherfucking shit he wanted them to. 

“I.. um.. Yes.” 

Apollo pulled him down on top of him, connecting their lips. _Woah._

Suddenly they were lying down, (which did involve an awkward few moments when they moved to the top of the bed,) and Apollo’s hair came undone, and Hyacinthus tangled his fingers in it in an attempt to pull him closer, closer, until they had to let up for air.

He panted; his face flushed. He was determined not to freak out, to get as much out of this experience as possible, but all he wanted to do was get off like this.

They collided once more, harsher this time, more desperate and clingy because neither of them had realized just how much they wanted this. 

Once neither of them could continue on without succumbing to the urge to touch one another (very sensually, might I add) they laid down.

Apollo’s body was soft, but more angular and more perfect than his. It was nearly burning, far warmer than a normal human’s, and Hyacinthus could feel the indication of his pleasure up against his hip, so close to his own.

He needed more, needed to touch and to be pleased, and so he slowly slid his hand farther down Apollo’s chest, then stomach, then midriff, until it was painfully obvious as to what he was hoping for.

Apollo smirked at this. “You really liked that huh?” He asked, his voice dripping with something heavy, divine near Hyacinthus’ ear. All he could do was make a confirming, weak noise, half pathetic and half longing.

“Oh? You really do want me that bad?” He asked, his tone dripping with mock surprise. “I don’t blame you. Quite a lot of people have begged for me.” 

He whispered into Hyacinthus’ ear, running his thumb along his collarbone. “And I suppose you aren’t an exception?” 

Hyacinthus whimpered. 

“I need a verbal answer to continue , love.”

He managed to say ‘yes’ as clear and desperate as he possibly could. 

Apollo’s hand moved down his chest, stopping to caress his stomach gently, to whisper sweet nothings in Hyacinthus’ ear. (Mainly ‘I love you’s and ‘you’re beautiful’s and soft questions about what he liked and where he liked it.) 

It did get there eventually, though.

His hips responded by bucking involuntarily towards Apollo’s, desperate and needy. He hurriedly undid his robes until he was naked.

Apollo took his time preparing him, talking about how beautiful Hyacinthus was and how lucky he was to have him. 

He kissed bruises on his neck and chest and finally thighs, as he teased him. When Hyacinthus really couldn’t stand it, and was ready to finish the job himself, Apollo’s mouth slid onto his cock. 

He remembered moaning loud at this, desperate and eager for Apollo to take away his now painful erection. He licked a bit at it, sucking on the tip and swirling around with his tongue, he clearly had experience.

The pleasure came in a surging motion, like he needed to release something deep within him. 

Apollo lifted his head back up to stare at him like this was something precious, like it was a rare opportunity. 

He whined for more of the sensation and Apollo moved his hand up and down on it, edging him until he could barely speak.

He tried to focus on keeping the volume on his moans down but occasionally Apollo would stop and tell him it was alright, that he could let it out if he wanted. 

“It’s okay my love. You can come. Please do, I want to see what you’ll look like beneath me.” 

He did. 

It was good. Like Apollo had pushed him to the edge of a cliff, with raging waters at the bottom, and told him to jump. 

He remembered coming absolutely undone underneath him. 

His hands reached up for his neck, so he could whine and whimper and moan into it, feel the soft flesh, so raw up against his parched lips. 

He felt like dying here. Like this. If he could choose the circumstances in which he would die, it would be death by pleasure. 

But.. the other man hadn’t quite finished yet. 

That could be fixed. Apollo clambered off of him, and kissed his cheek. (awww) 

He was very clearly erect. “Should I... help with that?” Hyacinthus asked.

Apollo looked surprised. Hyacinthus was a bit offended. He could take care of his partners too, thank you very much.

”That would be nice.” 

Woah. He was big. Hyacinthus wondered how it would feel to have the man inside him. 

Maybe some other time. Now, he ran his hand up and down Apollo’s dick, slowly, and then faster as he tipped his head back and moaned.

Faster, faster, until his lover was trying not to be too loud. He realized this, tilting his head so he could kiss him and allow him to whine into him instead of the air.

Apollo’s lips fell towards his neck afterwards, making noises of contentment and stopping to kiss him.   
  


Their legs were tangled together. Hyacinthus smiled softly at him, giggling as he kissed his chest and odd places on his face.

They had to get up eventually, though. Ugh. 


	16. Baths and Sunsets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day on Delos ( fluff because they're adorable )

He wasn't aware of how tired he was. How much he wanted to rest. 

Which also meant he wasn’t aware of falling asleep on Apollo’s bare chest afterwards, but when he awoke they were tangled beneath mountains of covers, warm and fur lined. 

He was sticky and hot with perspiration and his own bodily fluids, so Apollo suggested they wash up. 

The bath was nice, hot water and soap was exactly what he needed. And Apollo was there, and he laughed when the god attempted to blow bubbles at him and only succeeded in getting it in his mouth. 

Night on Delos was nonexistent, unless, of course, its inhabitants wanted it to be. 

And tonight Apollo had chosen the brilliant sunset, raw and beautiful and never fading. In one of his later poems, commemorating Hyacinthus, he compared him to the sunset. 

This particular sunse t. 

They walked hand in hand to the beach he noticed earlier, and sat near the shore, sorting through seashells and letting the warm, salty tides wash their feet. 

He had never been to an ocean before. 

In fact, seeing any bodies of water at all in Sparta was rare, so this occasion was special. 

He paid close attention to it, collecting and saving the memory for another time. 

For now, he rested and leaned against his lover, hoping for more moments such as this one. 

Apollo’s hair was shorter somehow, hanging just past his ears and wavy. 

It was still the same shade of light gold, so Hyacinthus didn’t worry about it, as odd as it may have been. 

He was looking up towards a patch of clouds, pretty and pink in the fading light. 

He lifted his hands towards the sky, as if to say ‘stay right there’ and snapped his fingers. 

Hyacinthus silently watched as ribbons of light and gold swirled from his fingertips. 

He was curious as to what exactly Apollo was doing, but figured this was how he saved moments to paint later. 

When he was apparently satisfied, he waved his hands in a sort of motion you would see at the end of an orchestrated piece, as the conductor cut off the band; and turned towards Hyacinthus, showing him the tips of his now-gold stained fingers. 

Apollo reached up and ran his hands through Hyacinthus’ curled hair, that was somehow more defined and bouncy since he had arrived on Delos. 

He looked as though he was admiring it, studying Hyacinthus with pointed curiosity. 

He moved his hand to rest it on Hyacinthus’ cheek, who reached his own hand to meet Apollo’s. 


	17. All things must come to an end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not really angst, just thought the title fit.

They sat like that for a while, and were content. But Hyacinthus knew that he had to return to reality eventually, no matter how uncomfortable or tedious it was. 

“I should probably go back..” He started, looking at Apollo with a pained expression, who sighed slowly and stood. 

“I suppose you should. C’mon.” 

They began their sad walk back to the entrance of Delos. 

As they reached the gates, Hyacinthus remembered that he did not technically  **have** to be in Sparta all of the time. 

He did have a little leeway on that. 

Besides, he was a grown man who should have the ability to make a decision on where he wanted to spend his time. 

The hard part would be convincing his family that he wasn’t eloping with some girl, or getting drunk with the maenads, but that could wait. 

He needed to tell Apollo before the darkness started up again. 

“You know, I don't actually have to be at the palace all the time.. Only until I get all my work done. After that I’m free to do whatever.” 

This was a clear suggestion that Apollo considered before coming to a very positive conclusion. 

“Well, I don't have much to do tomorrow. You could.. Meet me back at the fields?” “Sounds good.” “Alright. Time for you to go home.” 


	18. Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet ANOTHER travel chapter

The darkness and cold that filled every crevice of his body was surprisingly not as harsh this time around. 

The light and heat afterwards was welcome, as he knew what was happening. 

He opened his eyes to see the same field they had been in what felt like ages ago, but must have only been earlier that morning. 

The sky was not stormy, but a light gray, like the wool of a sheep. 

The clouds softly rolled across the white in slow succession, and the mountains loomed over in the distance. It was time to go. 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said. 

Apollo looked up from his feet with a bit of disappointment in his eyes, but agreed, and Hyacinthus started the trek back to the palace.

Near behind him, Apollo disappeared with a flash of brilliant white light, going back to Olympus.


	19. Mornings and Worry

When he finally arrived, his family was extremely worried. 

He sat down at the mahogany carved wooden table, blowing away steam from the stew that he had loved since childhood, tearing bread and trying to avoid pressing questions of his whereabouts and concerned glances from his father. 

How was he supposed to tell them where he’d been? 

Hell, he didn't think they’d believe him anyway! 

But if they did ask (which they did) he would tell them he got carried away wandering around, and returned only when he was sure they’d missed him. 

He retired to his room quickly, refused offers of help from the servants and got to bed himself. 

He had semi missed his own bed, and its covers and softness. 

He tugged the fur pelts up to his chin, and tried dreaming. 

Sleep, like so many other things, evaded him. 

The marble ceiling suddenly became very interesting, enough so that he spent nearly an hour just staring at it, trying to process the events that had taken place in the past few weeks. 

He was still amazed that he, what would be considered a lowly mortal in god terms (even with his status as royalty) was able to even talk with an olympian. The notion didn't seem possible. 

He kept thinking, and thinking, until he closed his eyes and rest eventually came. 

He awoke early the next morning, as sunlight streamed through his pearly white curtains covering large holes in his walls used to show the view. 

It was a nice one; the palace was on a large hill overlooking some cottages and you could see mountains looming behind trees in the distance. 

If he was honest with his family and with himself, he wouldn’t have lied about not sleeping at all the night previous, too busy thinking about what lay ahead. 

_ Alright. It’s alright. You’ll see him today anyway, and maybe you can go back to Delos.  _

Meet in the fields. That’s what Apollo had said. 

Was there a time? 

How long? 

He wondered these things while stumbling down some stairs towards the place where they ate. 

Anais was already at the table, dressed in only her nightclothes, dark, wavy hair disheveled. She had bags under her eyes. Hyacinthus knew why. His father’s condition was becoming worse. But Anais shouldn’t have to worry about such things, especially so close to her birthday. 

She was young, but not naive, which was a concern of his, considering she was only turning fourteen. 

He gave a little wave in her direction and exited the room. 

He walked briskly towards the market, searching for him until he decided to simply travel back to the fields. 

The morning air was chilly, and he shivered, regretting his decision to not bring a shawl or some other form of warmth. 

Hopefully Apollo would be there, and he could escape this place again. 

Low and behold, the exact person he was waiting for was sitting against a tree trunk, staring at the leaves in his hands and looking solemn. 

Hyacinthus took the opportunity to plop down next to him, tapping him on the shoulder, attempting to get him out of the rather sad trance. He made a surprised sound, and then collected himself. 

“Right. So.. what did you want to do? Because.. well I thought if you wanted to we could go back to Delos? There’s so much more to see and we didn't exactly get to spend all that much time together yesterday...” 

“That.. yes. I would like that.” He responded. 

He was indeed eager to go back to the island, and maybe finish what they had started yesterday.

“Take my hands.” Apollo told him. He did. 


	20. Delos Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinda explicit? Sorta fade to black but I might post the whole scene to my other fic. 
> 
> side note: I suck at dialogue

When the transition between places, between hypothetical planes of existence was finished, once they had broken the barriers of time and space, Hyacinthus opened his eyes to see the same scenery as the day before greet him. 

It was warm there; warm and sunny and peaceful. 

Apollo grinned at him as he took his hand to pull him along a different path than the one they had taken the day before. 

They came upon a more seclusive body of water, a large one. 

Not quite an ocean, but not a pond either. 

He removed his well worn sandals and tested the water with his toes. 

He was pleasantly surprised by the warmth of it. 

He then tugged the hem of his toga towards his knees and dipped his legs into the water. 

Apollo joined him, but soon got into the water fully, throwing his own robes onto the sand. 

He winked at him, and Hyacinthus quickly followed. 

He had a problem though. 

He couldn’t swim. 

He had never learned how. 

Luckily, Apollo figured this out soon enough, when the determination on his face morphed into panic. 

Apollo held him so he at least wouldn’t drown. His body relaxed a little, knowing he was safe in his arms. 

Somehow, Apollo managed to pull every single hairstyle off, and the wet strands sticking to his face framed it perfectly. 

Gods, Hyacinthus wanted to kiss him. 

So he did. 

His mouth was sweet; it tasted like what he imagined nectar to be, and honey. 

Eventually, Apollo’s hands were tangled in his hair, and the butterflies low in his stomach let him know they needed to get somewhere more private before this could continue. 

He tried getting out to put his toga back on, but Apollo simply snapped his fingers and they were back in his room. 

Getting dry might have been hard, if a sun god was not present and  **very** eager to get on with this. 

Their lips collided again, but Hyacinthus moved so he was sucking on his neck and the skin just near his ear. 

He looked  **good** like this. 

He climbed on top of him, so they were facing one another. 

Apollo seemed to immensely enjoy this. 

He did shove him off though, pinning his arms to the bed. 

Hyacinthus made a small sound of surprise as his free hand ran down his body, stopping just below his hips. 

He wanted this, he realized. 

Hyacinthus wanted to finish like this, taste Apollo’s name on his tongue, feel his lips on his own. 

Why shouldn’t he be assertive, and get what he wanted? 

He wrestled his hand free from his grip, and pulled Apollo’s head down so he could kiss him once more. 

It was good, too. Warm, and while not soft, comforting. 

Apollo was pretty. 

So, so pretty. 

Those happened to be the only coherent thoughts running through his mind before he came. 

Somehow, he was wearing the toga he had left on the beach, although it was not filled with sand or scratchy like he expected. 

He eased himself back into lying down and trying to catch his breath. Then he turned to face him. 

Apollo opened his arms as if to say ‘come here.’ 

They lay there for a decently long amount of time, both waiting for the other to break the silence. 

“Well.”-Apollo started- “That was….” “Wow.” He replied. 


	21. jesus Artemis, did you have to crash the party?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note the chapter title

And then Apollo was giving him a tour, and they wandered around the large building for hours. 

He wanted to see everything. Absolutely everything. 

All the marble structure, the fine tapestry, the archery range, but most of all, the gardens. 

He’d always loved gardening. 

It was one of many facts about him that shocked people. Right next to his favorite color being purple and having a phobia of blood. 

“Hyacinthus, you’re the prince! A warrior! Soldier! You’re going to run this place one day! You’re supposed to be manly, tough, fearless! You can’t be weak.” 

He guessed it was just yet another unrealistic expectation set for him. Another impossible possibility. Right next to having a wife and kids. 

Something he would never, could never live up to. No matter. He could push it back forever if it meant not having to face it head on. 

He was right. The gardens were absolutely beautiful. 

He probably could have spent the entire day in there, had Apollo not frantically tapped him on the shoulder, to warn him of… well he didn’t really bother to ask.  _ Oh shit.  _

The next thing he knew, he was being pushed into a storage unit, a closet of some kind. 

He could just hear a very nervous Apollo trying to explain to an apparently womanly voice what exactly he was doing back on Delos, with no emergency at large. 

He chalked it up to homesickness and she seemed to move on, walking away suspicious. 

It wasn’t like Apollo didn’t visit often enough. She was the one who wasn’t at home for large periods of time, always busy with her hunters. 

Hyacinthus waited in the dark. It must either be his sister or his mom. 

He never heard too much about Leto, other than the standard myths. 

His sister, however….. Whoooooo buddy. 

He, although hesitant to admit it, was quite terrified of Artemis. 

And he wasn’t sure if being her brother’s lover would win him any points in her “Men not to kill” book. Yes, she had one. Don't ask. 

He, even with being scared of her, respected her work. He had never been one for hunting or women, but he could see why someone else would be. 

He could just barely make out a spider hanging dangerously close to his face. It swung at him, and he attempted to swat it but only fell backwards onto the ground with a small shriek. 

Outside, Artemis whipped around, turning to face her brother. “What was that?” 

“I…” He looked back at the closet, seemingly speechless.

“What, pray tell me, could you be hiding in there?” She asked. 

Apollo laughed nervously. “It’s probably nothing, I must’ve shoved too much equipment in there earlier.”

Why hadn't he told him that his sister was here? 

What if she found him? 

He never thought it would end like this. Slain by his own boyfriend’s twin. 

Arrow through his dick, probably. 

Could you die from that? Blood loss, maybe. If anything, he’d die of shame. 

Outside the unit, Apollo was still attempting to move Artemis away from him. 

If it came to it, (which it probably wouldn’t) he would shoot her. He had done it before, he’d do it again. 

(It was a nice distraction tactic, it wasn’t like Apollo would actually harm her or anything.) 

He wondered if his lover could run. 

The answer to that question was, and would always be, yes. 

Duh. 

Of course he could run. 

He was one of the higher ups in the great Spartan army, he’d been trained in weaponry, combat and general physical activity since he was 10. 

He could fight, too. 

Just because he was comfortable with less masculine things did not mean that he couldn’t defend himself. He was quite good at it. 

He was, to put it simply, a badass. 

And he was hiding in a corner of a god’s closet because of a spider. 

“You know what? I don't even wanna know what’s in there. Just don't piss off mom.” And she walked away. 

Once Artemis was far out of earshot, (and eyesight) the door was opened, and a hand was offered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may take me longer to update after this one, as that's all I have in my google docs. I'm not stopping though.


	22. Kitchen escapades and the horror of Closets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter, i think I have writer's block.

He got up slowly, took the time to crack his knuckles and gather himself before even daring to look up at Apollo. 

“What… what happened?” He asked. He looked as though he were trying to be angry and failing miserably. 

“I uhm… there was a spider crawling on my face, and I don't think I told you but I’m really afraid of spiders, Milo showed me how scary they could be, but I don't really want to talk about him right now because then I’ll start crying and that would be mortifying and you’re a god and I don't want to embarrass myself in front of you and-” 

Apollo pressed his lips to his forehead, which only embarrassed him more, reminding him of the awkward height difference between them. “C’mon.” 

Again he dragged him through the halls. They peeked into each room, curious to know if there were any other people-to-avoid- in the house. None. Apollo figured his sister was on the archery range out back, and Hyacinthus took his word for it. 

They spent quite some time in the kitchens (yes, multiple! Milo would’ve been shocked, the poor bastard) eating whatever edible human food his family had prepared over the summer. It wasn’t much, but it was food, and Hyacinthus was hungry; having not eaten earlier that day. 

And they laughed, and talked, and were having a very good time when oh no! Deus ex machina! Apollo’s mother, Leto, (titaness of motherhood, lover of Zeus, mother to both Apollo and Artemis, you get the drill) shouted something to him akin to the modern “I’m home!” 

Shit. 


	23. Facts of the Day with Hyacinthus!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mini chapter- not really directly related to the main story, kind of a oneshot.

Facts of the Day with Hyacinthus! 

Hyacinthus had learned something that day, and it was that he did not like closets. At all. 

They were stuffy, and full of dust, and he was yet again being shoved in one. He wondered why Apollo didn’t pull some godly bullshit and just bluff his way out of the situation, but he supposed that would be unbecoming of an honesty god. 

The olympians were confusing. Why didn't they all live on Olympus? What was the deal with the incest? What’s the difference between a minor god and an olympian? 

And Apollo answered him. 

“Some of us prefer not to, or we’re not welcome.” 

“Gods are on a completely separate scale of existence than you humans. We are not related in the way you would be to your sister, per se. Plus, there’s not a lot of options, and before you ask I do not fuck my siblings.” 

“The difference is you have to be born from one of the olympian counsel. Probably Zeus, the old whore. Anyone lesser than that, or a human we made a god, would be considered minor, since all the important positions are left to us.” 

The olympians were confusing. Closets suck. Apollo’s hair smells really good, and not in a creepy way. All facts Hyacinthus had learned that day. 


	24. Waiting. Dust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's kinda sad :( 
> 
> also that thing at the end was because I was gonna cry and I needed to cheer myself up

Well, his mother was taking  **forever.** He dared not move, or make a sound, just staying as silent and still as he could, pressed against the cold wall, which was odd considering the temperature outside and around the place. 

He shivered. Every movement sent a new flash or freezing up his spine, and he half wondered whether that was on purpose. 

Apollo was lucky to have him. He would do anything for him, even press his sensitive skin up against a furnace, but opposite. Cold. 

He felt like icicles should be growing off his arms, like in a children’s book Anais would read and talk about all day, wishing that she could flee to a modern land, one that was nicer to children and women and people like Eloise and her brother. 

He often thought about what her life would be like once he died. He was certain that he would. He was a demigod, and he was well aware of what happened to demigods when they grew up. If they grew up at all. 

His sister was not a demigod. She did not share the same mother. She was still invited to every concert his mother did, though. She was a demigod for a night when she went. They were both underneath Clio’s protection. 

And she loved the lights, and the warmth, and the odd looking people, ones whose forms shifted rapidly, or invisible people that they could not see at all. How if you sat in the back, you would be high up enough it looked as though you were flying. She would giggle and he would have to cover her mouth, promise her sweets or gifts not to embarrass him. 

And the odd looking people looked at him normal, like he was odd too. Their mouths scowled a bit looking at his sister, until they noticed his mother’s harsh disapproval. Then they stopped. Clio was well liked after all, and no one wanted to make her, her sisters, or Apollo mad. 

Yes, Apollo. They had met before the fields as well, briefly. The god had greeted them all with a polite wave, and he had kissed Hyacinthus’ hand. A friendly gesture. A polite gesture. A gesture that sent a million butterflies up into his brain and down to his toes. Yes, he had enjoyed that night. Not paying attention, but enjoying it all the same. 

He had seen him once more, high in the rafters during Thargelia. With his sister. And his mother. Their eyes had met again, and he felt the butterflies return. 

The freezer door opened. The same man he’d been thinking about, with a warm smile and kind hands and a warm blanket, and he felt safe. For once. Safe. Even with the knowledge of his ever-approaching fate. Even with his father’s sickness. He was safe here, safe to forget about the problems. 

Milo would love to be here. He’d be shooting arrows with the god outback. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t there, and he never would be. Eloise would race him around the acres of land, pretend that tripping him was an accident, beat him at shooting, and they would make poor Hyacinthus be the judge. 

But Eloise was away in Corinth, and Milo was all bones and blood and buried, and Hyacinthus was alone to pick up the pieces. 

But. But Apollo’s arms were warm, and they could sit on the loveseat in the grand porch-balcony, and he didn't need to worry about engagements or arrows. And they could hold one another, even as tears filled his eyes and he buried his head into Apollo’s chest, just to know the man, the god, wouldn’t leave him like he knew so many others had. 

And one day he would be like Milo. And Eloise would too. And they’d dance and race together in Elysium, and nothing would matter. They’d be dust, and the fates would be their  **Swiffer** Heavy Duty Dusters with Extender Handles. 


	25. Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in so long, I'm working on other projects (in my works, check them out if you want!) and it's been hard to keep track of updates since I'm in school.
> 
> Thank you to all the people who gave feedback!   
> Updates will be fairly spaced out from now until the indefinite future, but I haven't abandoned this and I don't intend on doing so.

The days faded in and out of one another. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying them, just his routine was starting to get a bit boring. 

Most days he hung around Apollo. But….Sometimes, like this day, that wasn’t possible. 

He was walking through the gardens outside in the back of the palace. Apollo was away on Olympus, and the hazy, miserable mood Hyacinthus was in wasn’t fading. If anything, it only got stronger as the day dragged on, and he decided to abandon learning about the glorious battles his father had fought and stroll outside instead. 

He had managed to avoid guards and (because word travels fast and there had been a rather unfortunate incident where they were caught inside his room) questions about his relationship with Apollo. His father, unsurprisingly, was thrilled. He said it was very good for the kingdom and for his social status as prince that he had managed to attract the attention of a god. 

Of course, it was very awkward to answer any of these rumours. Most people thought it to be purely carnal, and no young man wanted to answer questions about his sex life. Especially not if the supposed sex was with a god. 

His face had remained permanently flushed these days, with even his sister asking things. Not inappropriate things, per se, but just embarrassing stuff. Like, ‘I knew that guy from the fields liked you!’ And, ‘What did I tell you?’ 

She had indeed teased him for a while about his, ah, crush on “Phoebus”, but that had turned out well for him, so it didn’t bother him as much. He did find himself missing Apollo on days like this though, and he sat near a pond with his legs crossed. 

Strong wind blew around him, and he had to hold his robes down so as to keep just a little bit of his dignity. 

A man with wings ( _ A man with what now?)  _ approached him. 

He wasn’t unatractive, but something about the way he was grinning at Hyacinthus threw him off. 

It definitely wasn’t Apollo. He knew that. 

The man’s hair was dark, not as dark as his curls but dark enough it made his pale skin stick out. 

Hyacinthus stood. The man spoke. 

“I am Zephyros, lord of the west winds, and I have taken quite a liking to you, your Majesty.” 

Huh? Hyacinthus was almost sure he had never met this dude in his life. He was clearly a god, but just what he was doing talking to someone an Olympian had clearly laid claim to was uncertain. 

(If word travelled fast around the palace, everyone knew everything in a second in Olympus. Rumours ran rampant. And Apollo did not mind them, he didn’t mind the notion that he had been seeing a mortal prince as any offense. In fact, he actively spread the rumours, bragging if anything.) 

“Well I am very pleased to meet you, my lord, but I’m afraid you’re a bit too late. I don't suppose you’ve heard of my… involvement with Apollo, have you?” He might as well be up front about it, the man probably knew anyway. 

“Of course, of course. I’ve heard the notions. But he is not here now, is he?” 

“No, but it would be highly unlikely that he would take kindly to me betraying him in such a way.” 

“Oh, lighten up a little bit. It’ll be fun! Besides, you must be lonely alone all day.”

“Well, I am not alone, you see, I have my family, and I have the plethora of guards right over there-” he gestured vaguely to the side “who are waiting for me to return. So I really must turn down your advances, I am sorry.” 

He gave a small bow and walked quickly away, quick enough he didn’t see the furious expression on Zephyr’s face. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this since September so I'm psyched I can finally post it 
> 
> (short chapter but it gets better)


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